Affirmative
by Silent Sage
Summary: The Lennox family was never typical from the start. Series of one-shots centered around the Lennox family and their adopted guardian: Ironhide.
1. Oorah

**Affirmative**

**Disclaimer**: Transformers and any characters related to the franchise to do not belong to me. I just like to use them for my amusement.

**A/N:** I'm just gonna pretend that I haven't watched the third movie.

Term: **oorah** - A motivational cry used by the United States Marine Corps.

...

Before she married Will, Sara was in the Marines.

She was deployed three times before she finally settled down. She would have deployed a fourth time if not for one routine check-up with a surprising twist when her doctor gave her a hearty congratulations on her first pregnancy.

Sara blinked.

Her body numb and her mind shutting down at the very notion that she could be carrying a _life_ within her body.

How?

Why?

Oh wait, she's totally capable of carrying a life.

The monthly bleeding isn't there for show.

She stiffly thanked her doctor, scheduled an appointment for her next visit and walked out the hospital with a handful of pamphlets regarding the excitement of childbirth and children.

Stepping into her- no, _their_ apartment – small and just enough room for two people to live comfortably, they were always away on their own individual assignments – Sara pressed her back against the cool vertical length of her mahogany door. She closed her eyes and carefully wrapped her arms around her still flat stomach.

"Hello," she whispered, mostly into the empty apartment. The gold band on her fourth finger dully glinting as she tightened her grip across her abdomen, "I'll be your mom." She sighed, "And I kill people for a living."

The Marines prepared her for many things.

They broke her down and built her back up.

Deployment at a moment's notice.

Fifteen miles of non-stop running while carrying her weight in equipment.

The capability of shooting a man with her sniper rifle from 1000 meters away and the ability to reappear back into her assigned post without anyone the wiser.

The foresight of packing extra bandaging within her lower leg pocket in the case she ever had to use it to save her squad mate or watch them die before her very eyes.

Sara thought she was prepared for the world at large.

However.

The Marines did not prepare her for motherhood.

No pamphlets or books or cheesy educational videos prepared her for morning sickness, the cravings, the _swelling_ of various body parts.

The first week of moaning into her bed and cursing Will for being _Will_ and his damn sperm, Sara decided to fall back into the familiar.

Despite Will's worrying, Sara did PT (physical training), she ran (walked the last trimester) for miles until the doctors mandated bed rest.

She would often have conversations with her extended belly, with _her_ baby girl, and they ranged from the mundane "_You better not have Aunt Franny's feet, they're hideous_" to the ones not necessarily directed to her daughter but important nonetheless, _"Promise me you won't let me –especially your dad- screw you up."_

When she first held her baby, her Annabelle –wet, pink, and screaming like a little banshee- Sara knew that her newest and most long-lasting assignment would be the hardest and most fulfilling.

"Oorah," she murmured as she pressed her cheek against her daughter's forehead.

The Marines may not have trained her for childrearing but it does help. Five hours of sleep is considered a luxury and Annabelle enjoys waking up in the middle of the night at a moment's notice. She can carry her weight of baby diapers from the store to her car with the utmost ease.

Annabelle's stroller is specially modified for long distance running too, so hey, she's back to pre-baby weight.

Oorah.

There are noticeable pleasures of civilian life.

She doesn't have to wait for that phone ringing - her commander on the other line with another yearlong stint in a foreign country where gun regulations were a little too lax. She doesn't have to wait for the noise around her to thrum to a tolerable hum while she waits in her bunk, waiting for orders, _waiting_ with a rifle by her bed to keep her country safe.

Sara was always waiting.

Now there isn't a day where she's called to duty. She doesn't have to hold the tremble of her hands, the fallout from the constant rush of adrenaline her body still in her bloodstream from earlier that day due to another assignment, while being debriefed.

If she closes her eyes and _really_ concentrates, she can still smell the dry air of the desert, the sand beneath her boots, and the sun beating against her face like an aching, constant reminder that this-this seemingly barren wasteland was her temporary home.

Sara almost misses it.

Although, she has come to learn to appreciate the simple pleasures of motherhood.

It's significantly quieter.

The battlefield with gunfire thundering in her eardrums for days, the shouting of her comrades and civilians from all sides, the flames shooting from cars hotter than the blistering air around her that penetrates her uniform feeling like a never-ending story until-until- she looks down at slumbering form of Annabelle. Her precious baby swathed in cotton and smelling like baby powder and lilacs from her bath with the picture of Will by her bassinet, and Sara's shoulders slump and the corners of her lip quirk upward and she accepts she wouldn't take back anything from her life as a soldier and wife.

She's even more grateful for her time in the Marines because they prepared her for loss.

Sara is the wife of an active duty soldier, she still has contacts and friends who are on the battlefield; loss is to be expected.

She's personally lost more people than she cares to count. People in her platoon, the civilians that helped her with their native language, her contacts spanning from the urban cities to the rural villages in the unforgiving mountains, and there was that one child of that mother who day strapped herself with-

Sara carefully keeps their pictures, their letters, the news clippings –carefully preserved despite the long trip from their respective countries- tucked in a box in a locked cabinet underneath the floorboards of her closet. The shoeboxes stacked meticulously over her secret storage are a deterrent for any wayward soul. The firearm and backup clips tucked in her stilettos shoebox.

She was-_is_ a soldier.

Once a Marine, _always_ a marine.

There's no such thing as a former soldier when you've placed your life on the line and felt the jolt of a rifle in your hands as it fires and hits its mark with a numbing _bang_.

Sara sweeps wayward blonde hair away from her face, her attempt to look presentable before her husband despite the grainy resolution of a satellite conversation and picks up Annabelle with the other to see her father for the first time.

Sara grins wryly to herself. Despite the fact that she's no longer out on the field, she's still waiting.

Will is currently a soldier deployed in no-man's land and contact, no matter how brief, are a luxury.

Their conversation is cut short and despite his hurried reassurances, she can hear the screams and gunfire in the distance.

Her heart feels like it's stuck in her throat as she stares at a blank screen where husband's smiling face was just milliseconds ago.

The Marines definitely did not prepare her for this-this robot or machine, alien or whatever.

Sara meets Ironhide at the same time as Annabelle. After the reunion with Will, the soldier scratches the back of his neck bashfully as he motions toward the large, black TopKick parked on their driveway.

"So I have-well, um, let me introduce you to the newest member of the family," he finally says. "Our newly appointed Autobot guardian: Ironhide."

Will barely finishes his sentence before the black TopKick's headlines glow faintly blue –Sara's hand shoots behind her back, her fingers grasping the warm, familiar metal of her gun- as the truck starts to transform.

Sara wonders if she should start packing her semi-automatic rifle in one of the many compartments of Annabelle's diaper bag.

The groan of machinery rearranging and reassembling itself –the reassembling of this machine was eerily beautiful- and suddenly she's faced with a 25-foot tall robot staring down at her significantly smaller form.

Annabelle is in Will's arms. She blinks her large blue eyes up at the hulking figure several times before a large grin spreads across her pink lips and she raises her hands toward the robot. She's cooing nonsense at him, and Sara's heart freezes when blue optics are suddenly focused on her _defenseless_ daughter.

(She completely ignores the fact that Will is holding her protectively in his arms.)

Their new guardian –Ironhide- cocks his head to the side before settling himself (surprisingly, very gracefully for one so bulky) on one knee. He scans her daughter with surprisingly gentle blue eyes –optics, Will would tell her later- and if he had an eyebrow, it would be quirked as he stares at the pink swathed bundle that is Annabelle Lennox.

Will grins, "This is my daughter, Annabelle." He motions toward Sara, "And this star-struck human next to my side is Major Sara Lennox of the United States Marines – my pistol ready wife." He tilts his head toward her, "No sudden movements, buddy. She's packing."

The warmth of the barrel of her weapon against her lower back is a comforting reminder.

Ironhide looks at her, his blue optics scanning her but even more so, Sara is suddenly very naked under his scrutinizing gaze. She hasn't felt this way since Will first opened his eyes after lying unconscious in Med Bay for three days. He looked straight at her with those brilliantly sharp blue eyes and a question regarding his squad members on his lips – _daring_ her to avoid answering the question or even lie.

"She does have a surprisingly large arsenal of hidden weapons under her clothing despite her slight build," Ironhide states. Sara could hear the lingering undertones of appreciation in his mechanical voice.

Will blinks, "I thought she only had those two-"

"Four," Sara clarifies and Will turns around to look at her with wide, startled blue eyes.

Old habits die hard.

"Major Sara Lennox," Ironhide states, her baritone voice warm despite the formality of his words, "It is my honor to make your acquaintance."

Sara automatically straightens her back and she feels like she's back in boot camp all over again in the presence of this strange being who is now her guardian. She will have a long talk with Will later. She plants a smile on her face and raises her hand in his direction, "It's a pleasure."

Her breath catches as he raises his own hand, the sound of metal grinding against metal and the setting sun beating down her back as he raises his hand toward her and extends his black finger toward.

Sara halts breathing for barely a moment, anticipation, the same anticipation she felt when she took her first step into the seemingly endless expanse of the desert.

Her fingers gently touch his finger, the sun-kissed metal surprisingly warm to the touch. Despite whatever practical notions that her mind warns her about the giant robot in her home, around her _newborn child_, her instincts tell her that she can trust him.

After all, her instincts told her to grab that child before their mother detonated the bomb hidden underneath her clothes.

It was the same nudge from her instincts that willed her to give Will, a soldier in Med Bay with a concussion and a tendency to smart mouth to the doctors and leave his bed only to be caught checking up on his soldiers, a second look and her phone number.

Ironhide grunts –something along the lines of a chuckle- and they continue staring at one another until a whimper snaps their attention back to Annabelle. She's still staring at Ironhide, feeling very left out. Will attempts to reassure her, planting a tender kiss on her soft, blonde hair, but Annabelle will have none of it until she introduces herself to the newest member of their family.

Ironhide stares at her quizzically but he stretches out his finger toward her.

Will takes several steps closer to Ironhide, holding Annabelle in his arms as she attempts to squirm away from him and toward the gigantic being. When both of her tiny hands meet the warm, unforgiving metal of his finger, she looks at him with large eyes filled with awe. She gives a shrill, delighted squeal before cuddling back into Will's chest, suddenly shy but still peaking at Ironhide through the fan of her long blonde eyelashes.

Ironhide quirks his head at the small pink bundle and Sara laughs, long and loud as she leans against Will's side and looks down at Annabelle as she returns her attention back to her mother.

"Be easy on Ironhide, Annabelle," Sara tells her daughter fondly while Will smiles gratefully at her.

Annabelle burbles happily, her bright blue eyes alight with laughter as she darts her attention from her parents and the gigantic robot towering over her family.

Sara was a soldier who handled two deployments in war-torn countries; the third deployment was with a list of targets sanctioned by her government to kill. It was during that deployment that she met soldier turned incapacitated patient who had a tendency to disappear from his assigned bed.

He carried his IV bag in his pocket like a bag of peanuts.

That same year, she became the wife of a husband who constantly left for classified missions for long periods of time.

She is the mother of a child with a smile too reminiscent of her father's and eyes –keen and attentive- like her mother's.

Surely, the appearance of a guardian robot suddenly thrown onto her lap will be a piece of cake.

Sara doesn't have to worry about babysitters now.

* * *

><p><strong>SS<strong>: What do you think? I didn't want Sara to be confined in that one-dimensional character as a 'mother' or a 'wife'. She may have been an ordinary woman, but c'mooon, if you're married to Will, you better have one hell of a backstory. I sort of wrote this on the fly (at 1am) so hey, if you want critique for my lack of grammatical skillz, then feel free.


	2. Downtime

**Affirmative**

**Disclaimer: **I'm still totally ignoring the third movie but all characters do not belong to me and whatnot. **  
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Chapter 2: **Downtime**

...

On lazy weekends when the sun is warm, the skies a shade of blue reminiscent of the cornflowers Sara planted alongside their walkway, Will drags out the hammock from the shed and assembles it in the shade of the nearby patch of oak trees. Trying to get on the hammock is precarious at best, even for a seasoned soldier such as himself. It's a one-sided staring contest between the hammock and one Major William Lennox of the US Army Rangers, which he ultimately (by a hair, he mentally insists) loses.

Sara walks by, her laughter ringing through the peaceful air like bells -

-of complete and utter amusement for his situation.

He married such a cruel, _cruel_ woman.

Will does not lose (especially in front of his adoring wife and impressionable child).

It's an unspoken rule with him and the universe at large.

It takes a moment of concentration, his heart rate lowering to a steady pitter-patter, his breath evening, and his gaze sharp like he's glaring down a new upstart recruit before he grabs the edge of the hammock and hauls aft into it like he's being chased by a 'Con.

He holds his breath.

The hammock sways quietly under his sudden weight.

Will victoriously fist pumps the sky, splaying his arms against the smooth material as he grins jubilantly for his ninja-like swiftness.

Sara rolls her eyes as she passes by, an 'I can't believe I married _this'_ grin across her face as she hands him Annabelle.

Now that the adrenaline rush of climbing successfully onto the hammock is over, it's time for Will to settle himself down for a nap with the comforting weight of his daughter on his chest.

Annabelle burbles happily, curling into his arms with a satisfied sigh as settles down for her mid-afternoon nap.

The Lennox house is miles and miles away from any neighbors and a good hour away from the nearby town. It's a slight hassle when Sara forgets to buy an item from the grocery store or Will realizes he's run out of beer and by the time either of them make it to town, everything will be closed for the evening. They may grumble, but really, they both know they wouldn't trade the quiet country life for anything. The tranquility is a godsend in comparison to the _alwaysconstantunbearable_ noise of gunfire and screams. They're even more grateful they bought such a large, out of the way plot of land due to their newest member of the family. It makes it easier for him transform into his bi-pedal form and relax along with them during the daytime. No need for nosy neighbors or noise control.

Hell, the first week Ironhide arrived, he built a shooting range for the three of them.

Will secretly thinks Ironhide is vying for his wife's affection.

The traitor.

The both of them.

Currently, Ironhide's leaning against an oak tree, the biggest out of the bunch. The tree creaks with the weight of the heavy Autobot but it's endured worse and stubbornly holds firm against Ironhide's massive weight.

Between Will and Ironhide is Sara. She's sitting alongside Ironhide underneath the shade of the tree on a large checker print picnic blanket. There's a basket filled with their lunch for later in the afternoon next to her, sitting right next to her pile of magazines. Sara is reading People magazine, catching up on the latest celebrity gossip and fashion tips while her other magazines, Rifle's Weekly and GunnerSpot lay patiently for her to get to.

It's quiet.

The birds are chirping softly, mindful of the large machine and the family that he so carefully watches over.

The wind chimes on the doorway jingle slightly against the breeze.

Will is snoring softly and Annabelle is just like her father and snores –albeit not as loudly- against his chest. Sara is humming under her breath as she turns the page.

Ironhide vents, his optics dull slightly as he-he doesn't necessarily relax (he's a soldier!) despite Ratchet's claims- but for just a human moment, he doesn't want to think of the war looming in the distance, the Earth politicians and their ridiculous amount of paperwork and concealed threats, and just _appreciate_ his new home.

Home.

Ironhide remembers seeing Cyberton, after his ridiculously long and forced stay in the med ward, from video clips recorded by every usable recording device within miles of the transportation beams. The glimpse of a planet that Ironhide fought for –still fights for- being pulled by Sentinel from galaxies, universes away.

Lying on the berth, very much broken and Sentinel's betrayal still ingrained in his processors like a virus, Ironhide was left with nothing to do but feel homesick.

He was homesick for a place could no longer call home.

"Bwa!"

Ironhide's helm shoots up and immediately his scanners are buzzing, scanning everything within a three mile radius.

Instead of reading the glowing red eyes of a Decepticon, he instead finds himself in a brief staring contest with large, curious blue eyes.

"Chill, big guy." Will yawns sleepily, his hand resting on Annabelle's back while Sara looks up and grins.

"Annabelle wants to say hi," she says as she marks the page of her magazine. That rifle will definitely be on her wishlist for the holidays this year. Sara stands up, dusting her hands on her worn, frayed jeans before Will leans up slightly to hand Annabelle to her. Her baby gurgles in her arms happily, babbling animatedly with her mother, her small, pink, did he mention small, hands reaching for Ironhide.

"I have already greeted her this morning," Ironhide states but leans down regardless. Every morning, the sun a bare glimmer against the horizon, after his drive around the perimeter of the compound, he always waits patiently by the backdoor of the house. Will is generally awake at this time too. At that point in time, he's at the half-way mark of his five-mile morning run. He'll greet Ironhide with a wave of his hand as he jogs back to the house. During second day of his stay, Ironhide offered, out of courtesy, to transport Will back to the farm with a veiled grumble of security protocol, but Will just grinned, patted his hip where his weapon was carefully tucked away and breathlessly told Ironhide that his girls would like to say good morning too.

Sara and Annabelle usually see his form driving down the payment. A pleasant 'good morning' on Sara's lips and a hug from Annabelle are always there to greet him after his return.

Ironhide extends a finger toward the two female Lennox's but to his surprise Sara takes a step back.

"She wants to say hi to you, not your finger," Sara replies with a gently exasperated look. She looks at his hand and then back toward his optics before bringing her own hand up. She imitates the way his hand is being held before turning it palm upward.

Ironhide doesn't understand what she really wants but mimics it regardless only to be shocked nearly senseless when Sara easily climbs onto his hand and settles herself directly in the middle of the palm of his hand. She smiles up at him, her green eyes large and guileless: the perfect look of innocence. The twins should never learn of this or they'll probably ask her for lessons.

Ironhide often worries about Annabelle and how her creators' genes will influence the young sparkling.

"Up please," Sara requests politely. Annabelle babbles, attempting to mimic her mother's veiled demand.

Will looks up, his eyebrows shooting in surprise before he grins widely and settles his arms back on his stomach to watch his family's interaction with their favorite Autobot.

He does as she commands, so careful of the two delicate organic beings so trusting in his very being. It shakes Ironhide to his spark as they peer up at him with the utmost faith. War rarely allows unconditional faith, especially when he's only had months to gain their trust when it took him nearly a vorn to trust Optimus.

Then again, their lifespans are so short, barely a speck in comparison to Ironhide's long existence.

Humans are so very interesting.

Annabelle and Sara are literally face to face with Ironhide, just inches away from his helm, and he wonders 'what happens now?'.

Sara turns her head to the side to surveys the surrounding land from nearly ten stories and nonchalantly states, "You have a great view."

Ironhide chuckles, shaking his helm at how casual this human family is taking their situation.

He remembers unofficially meeting Sam's parents and suffice it to say, they were not in the least thrilled, especially Judy when she found out it was Ironhide who ruined her crocuses.

"Bawa!" Annabelle states as she leans away from her mother's embrace and toward Ironhide.

Ironhide stills, his spark stalling, as his faceplate is suddenly gripped with small hands and the press of skin, so very soft, of Annabelle's cheek against his mouthpiece.

Annabelle is clinging to him, or attempting to while Sara still holds onto the rest of her small body. Ironhide quickly scans her; all his readings indicate all normal body functions are at their ideal states and-and she is the picture of comfort as she hugs one of the most weapon-wielding Cybertronians ever sparked.

Sara and Will's laughter break through the quiet hum of this afternoon day. It's even louder when Annabelle refuses to be pulled away from Ironhide's faceplate. She has a surprisingly tight grip for a sparkling that is barely a year old.

And this – the laughter, the smiles, the unconditional trust, this unbelievable warmth that rivals the sun and even his own spark- _this_ is everything that Ironhide thought he once lost.

* * *

><p><strong>SS<strong>: Just a chill moment at the Lennox house. I'm new to the whole Transformers fandom so hopefully I don't suck too badly when I delve more deeply into the Autobots and their lives/backstories/interactions and whatnot. Anyway, tell me what y'all thought! To those who reviewed the first chapter, you all were SO SWEET. Thanks again if I didn't respond to you before! Special shoutout to Who-wants-to-know because a really thorough review was a ridiculously awesome surprise.


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